Only the Fallen May Rise
by Jessica Pendragon
Summary: Months after the final battle, Solas reaches out for help in completing his quest. Keela must make a decision between changing the world to restore her people or forging a new path for all. Neither choice is without consequences.
1. Chapter 1

Keela still clutches the report to her chest, the paper moist from being in her palm for so long. Heavy feet trudge into the glade aided by memory only for her eyes are devoured by sorrow. Even though it was hours ago, she remembers Josephine's horrified gasp as her gaze scanned the parchment in hand. She remembers Cullen's pity, Leliana's rage. She remembers the pain of reality grabbing her heart and squeezing.

The news spread quickly through Skyhold and her companions tried to offer their condolences. Varric stumbled out words, for once not so eloquent with his craft. Iron Bull swore vengeance and disappeared into the forge. Cole practically cried out at seeing her pain and she hurried away before he offered something she wouldn't be able to refuse. She appreciates them, but she is alone in this. Not even Sera, who seemed to want to crush her and run away at the same time, could possibly understand.

Somehow she manages to alleviate their worries, or demand her space to come to terms with these events. Somehow she ends up here and wonders what possible comfort could be found in this place.

It's where he left her. Perhaps it's fitting then, for they are all gone now.

She collapses in front of the small pond and drops her hands into her lap. The words are smeared from her abuse yet the message is clear enough. Corypheus is defeated and she has failed. Her clan is no more, murdered to the last man, woman and child. While she saved the future, villains destroyed her past. She is the most powerful person in all of Thedas and it mattered not to the swipe of an unknown blade, the tip of a stranger's arrow.

Her mind replays all the times she wanted to escape the clutches of the clan. Adventure waited just beyond the ring of aravels and halla. She took the shortest routes to adulthood, chose the smallest vallaslin, so she could be free to decide her own fate. She had raged against being made First until it gave her the chance to spy on the conclave. Now she is First to ashes, Keeper to the dead.

She lets the paper fall from her fingers and glide into the water. Keela leans over, glancing down into the calm water at her own reflection. Seeing her unmarked skin breaks the dam of her tears. She had been so eager to be rid of the vallaslin, rid of them. She would do anything to take it all back.

Keela slams her fists into the shallow water as a cry rips through her throat. She screams from sorrow, but vengeance flares within her soul. Fire bursts to life, red flames turning into blazing white suns in her grip. The water hisses and ripples away, but it can only escape by becoming steam above her head. She screams and screams, tears evaporating on her skin as the water begins to boil. The fire travels up her arms, down her legs into the ground and into her lungs, but she cannot stop. She smells the grass begin to burn and does not care.

She weeps for her people, but she has never had a gentle spirit. Fire is her element- wild, untamed, the ability to destroy or cleanse. It consumes her now and through its fury she sees the future. She doesn't pray to the old gods to save her, for they have never done so before. The Inquisitor makes a promise whether they listen or not. She will finish what she has already begun, no matter the cost.

Corypheus wanted to watch the world burn. She will make it shine.

The report catches fire on the boiling waves and a wicked laugh bursts through the rage and grief. She wonders if she could burn up with it and perhaps she will. She's never expended her magic in such a manner and can feel the edges of unconsciousness creeping near. So she pushes even harder, straining her powers and voice with a growing desperation. Everything is white and everything is burning. She can hear the voices of demons attracted by her light, but she will not give them the satisfaction of her swirling emotions. They will not have her, only the void will.

The fire snaps out with a whoosh as something inside her rips. She gasps, falling to her side. Keela listens to the crackling of embers around her as she tries to catch her breath. Her mana is spent and replaced with a hollow numbness like she has never felt before. She's expelled too much too fast and exhaustion swoops over her with a gentle blanket. But she welcomes it, welcomes the black that closes around her eyes and takes her away from this wretched, waking world.

There's no more fire, no more grass or water. There's smooth, cold stone against her cheek and a musty smell like an unused library. Keela opens her eyes and finds a mosaic of tile glittering in what sunlight peaks through leaves above. Her face lifts and takes in a familiar sight thought never to be seen again. She's laying in the empty Well of Sorrows. Pieces of the eluvian are scattered everywhere and catch the light like fallen stars. She rises, slowly, to sit back on her heels.

How did she get here? Where had she been before? Her mind still reels from the outburst of her magic. The temple is so quiet. Everything glows like she is looking through stained glass. No birds chirp above and nothing rustles below. The calm is surreal, like a dream. And then she remembers it is just that.

Her throat burns like a desert, her eyes ache as if she's stared at the sun for too long. The memories make her double over and she wishes she could purge them from her being. She cannot escape the truth even in the Fade. They are all gone.

There is a noise around her, quiet like rain falling against metal. The pieces of glass are shifting. They're being pulled towards the giant eluvian frame, running over the ground and each other like insects hurrying to their nest. She watches as they grasp onto the empty backing and take their former places.

Keela is drawn to the mirror as well, her broken body finding its feet. She steps closer as the last piece snaps into place. For a moment nothing happens until light begins to fill the cracks. It races from the bottom to the top, moving quick and erratic like forked lightning. When it reaches the apex the lines start to burn brighter and brighter until they blind her. She feels a soft, whistling wind reach out to caress her skin. Quiet returns to the Temple of Mythal with its passing.

The eluvian is shining, intact. It invites the Inquisitor to enter, but she can only take one step before something comes _through._

He wears the same threadbare uniform he wore to the final battle, the ever present jawbone hitting against his chest as he slides towards her. Keela's heart thrums in her ears louder than thunder and she presses her hands against her head, fingers gripping hair, to drown it out. She doesn't realize she's falling until she feels her knees hit the ground and his arms stop her from injury.

Blind hands clutch at his clothing as she buries her face into the warm crook of his neck. His touch is gentle but firm as he rubs her back, runs fingers through her short hair and soothes the ache shivering in her soul. She has no more tears but she's still aflame inside and he holds her without words. Part of her wants him to speak, to say something so she can hear his voice again, but she takes more comfort in his stillness. He is a force, a structure to hide in and slowly rebuild herself.

And after a time, her breath flows out evenly. A stampeding heart slows to a canter beneath her breast and she can finally think without the pain of loss gripping her mind. Her claws return to fingers and spread out against his back, around the nape of his neck. Keela doesn't open her eyes again for fear of the dream blinking out of existence, but she lifts her head so their cheeks are touching.

She wants to ask if this only a dream or if he has finally returned to her. The question almost slips from her lips before she decides against it. It doesn't matter. He is here. Whatever this is, she wants to live in it for as long as possible.

"Your vengeance trembles through the entirety of the Fade," he says and she cherishes the way his voice dances against her skin. "Ma vhenan, I am so sorry."

A sharp seething coils up inside her at the familiar title and she cannot keep the edge of it from her voice as she replies. Her heart aches from abandonment. He chose to leave, the others didn't, but they are gone all the same. "Where were you?"

His jaw clenches against hers and she can imagine the pained slope of his eyebrows. A sigh moves through them both. "I am here now."

"For how long?"

He doesn't answer, only holds her closer. Keela is instead glad for his silence. She doesn't want to be reminded of time for it only exists in the real world, and there everyone she loves has left. For the moment she is untethered. She can let the weight go for she is somewhere grief withers without something solid to quench it.

With eyes still boarded up, she lifts herself from the cradle of his embrace. She doesn't need a map to find his lips and returns to them with a feeling of coming home. Keela rests against him for a moment, soaking in the velvet touch, before her mouth moves against his.

He does not resist. It is her dream, after all. His hands mold against the small of her back and pushes them closer together. He returns her affection like he did in the Fade soaked snow of Haven and with her eyes shut she can picture them there. When everything still shined with newness, devoid of scratches made from future tragedies.

His touch restores her, fills the empty void of loneliness inside. She remembers other caresses in the safety of his hold. Her Keeper's strong fingers clutching her shoulder as they braved the Fade for the first time together. The spray of water as she splashed in a low pool with her friends when the clan traveled to a new home. Smoke and song wrapping themselves around her as they sang under the stars. The sharp sting of the vallaslin, a warm hand offering support against the needle. His fingers wrapped in hers under the starlight.

They are all gone, but they are not lost.

He ends the kiss and rests his forehead against hers. "I have missed you," he admits, although she wishes he wouldn't.

"You never promised you would stay, so why does it hurt so much? How can I go on in the face of all this…this loss?"

"Look at me, ma vhenan."

"No," she says, not caring if her tone is childish. "You'll disappear."

He chuckles like he always does when she delights him. "How could I leave when I am already gone?"

She feels his hands move to cup her face, his fingertips brushing the places her markings once touched. "The People have wronged each other since the time of legend. It should be no surprise that others find it so easy to wrong them as well. They have grown weak. What has happened was allowed to happen. The gods turned their backs on them in shame."

He kisses her closed lids, the high bones of her cheeks, the slight bump on the bridge of her nose. "But the gods have awoken to the cries of the People. They see that there is strength when all has been taken away. They have been given hope, in no small part thanks to you. You remind them of the ancient elves of Arlathan before the world was tainted. Your indomitable spirit calls to them, as it always has to me. You grieve, rightfully so, but your heart burns with purpose beneath the despair. A purpose that will never submit."

"I wanted…I wanted…" _for it all to end_, she thinks, but it seems wrong now.

"No you didn't," he says, the veil between her thoughts and words nothing to him. His voice fills with a passion that makes her breathless. "You want to scorch away the pain of the world, and you will. I was wrong to hide this from you when you have always been our salvation. You are the future of the Elvhen, emma lath. The gods have heard your cries, and they will answer. The world will tremble before us, before you, and your pain will not be forgotten. I promise this."

"I don't understand…"

"Will you look at me?"

"I'm afraid," she says, but opens her eyes regardless. His face is just as she remembers. The dimple in his chin, the long, sharp slant of his ears, the scar above his brow. But his eyes. **His eyes. **They're filled with black smoke that leaks from the corners like vaporous tears. Keela wants to look away, for something about them makes her feel unworthy, but she is drawn to them like birds pulled towards the south.

She gasps, tightening her grip around his arms even as he starts to slip away. "Solas?"

"No longer."

He kisses her again, hard and fast. The need is fierce and a new fire fills her veins. They give and take greedily and when she bites his lip between her teeth, his growl shakes the ground beneath her feet. She feels like she's floating above in the stars and buried deep within the folds of the earth. She is everywhere and nowhere, and anywhere she reaches out he is there. She feels as small as the ant, as expansive as the heavens.

The dream starts to shatter and drift away like leaves in the breeze. The black of his eyes spreads, surrounds her and enters her mouth, her ears, her eyes. It consumes her, but she is no longer afraid. She is something _more._

"Find me," she hears him whisper before the dream dies.

Keela awakes to the smoldering ruin of her making. The glade is half covered in shadow as the sun now sits lower in the sky. Burnt grass crinkles beneath her cheek and when she sighs a puff of ash rises from the ground. The Inquisitor lifts herself up to survey the damage. The peaceful space is mostly intact save for the area directly around her. The pond is empty and while other places are scorched, some places shimmer like glass from the immense heat of her power.

She gives it all a cursory thought for her mind still lingers on the dream. It felt so real. Keela wishes with all her heart that is was, but such things are for naive children. She begins to raise a hand to her lips, which feel swollen despite logic, when she realizes there's something in her hand. Fingers uncurl to reveal a sharp edged piece of the eluvian. She forgets how to breathe. It was more than a dream.

When she brings it up to her face it is not her eyes that she sees reflecting back.

_Find me,_ his voice haunts the wind.

Keela makes a fist around the mirror and lets it bite into skin. Blood seeps through the cracks in her grip, sealing their fate. _I will_.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun barely peeks above the horizon when Keela returns to Skyhold. There are few soldiers lining the battlements that snap to attention as she walks across the long bridge and she is glad the hour is so early. She wants to escape to her room and wipe the ash and tears from her face before too many Inquisition members witness her disheveled state.

As she nears the gate, Keela notices a solitary figure waiting for her. It is difficult to recognize him at first, with his armor and cloak removed, but something hitches within her breast when she realizes who awaits her. Her eager steps slow and when she can see the honey color of his eyes, she looks everywhere but at their depths.

"Keela," Cullen whispers with care. "Are you all right? You look…"

She can only imagine what a sight she is and self-consciously runs fingers through her dark hair to try and untangle its knots. He moves closer to her and stops at a comfortable distance. He has always been aware of her boundaries like she is as easy to read as a map. It brought her solace before, but now the idea that he is so in tune with her settles sharp in her gut.

"Keela?"

"I'm fine," she lies and is sure he can tell. She clears her throat and tries again. "I…I…"

He steps over the line from commander to companion and wraps her in a soft embrace. Keela stiffens in his arms, fists clenching at her sides.

"I kept thinking I should follow you, make sure you were safe. I know you wanted to grieve alone, but I was worried for you. This is…I can't imagine your pain and I wish there was something I could do. Know I am here for you."

Keela squeezes her eyes shut. The piece of the eluvian weighs heavy within her robe, but it's the memory of _him_ that drags her down. She had kissed him like he hadn't broken every promise ever made, like she still loved him. She had thought it was a dream, but it wasn't. It wasn't.

Her arms shake and she can't stop a rasping gasp from escaping her mouth. Cullen moves back, releasing her quickly. She doesn't look up at him, but she can hear the concern in his voice.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" There is a sadness there too for how she reacts to his touch and she wants to tell him to never let her go, but when she opens her mouth to speak she feels Solas' lips against hers, his tongue slipping inside to steal her words.

She takes a step away from Cullen and lets her nails bite into the wound the jagged piece of glass made a few hours ago. The pain gives her clarity and washes away the other aches within.

"I need to speak with everyone in the Inner Circle immediately. I would like to make myself presentable first so have someone wake them up and meet me in the War Room within twenty minutes." She sees him open his mouth, but shakes her head. "I will explain then. Please, Commander."

Cullen straightens and she can feel the awkward pause between them. "As you wish, Inquisitor."

She moves around him, escaping before either of them are capable of speaking further. Escaping the notion of how she hates that title coming from his lips as much as she did when Solas spoke it.

Keela wastes little time in her quarters. Cool water slaps against her face and her basin fills with dark soot and blood. No matter how hard she scrubs, she cannot remove his touch from her skin. A brush tames the mangled mess of her hair. A few months ago she shaved the other side of her head and likes to pull the remaining parts atop her crown into a growing tail. It is the way Solas wore it once in a dream and it felt like a way to mourn. Now it feels like something else. She wraps a clean cloth around her injured hand and changes into fresh robes before descending back down the stairs to the War Room.

The heavy doors are thrown open and she hesitates only a moment to draw in a steadying breath before walking in. Her Inner Circle, her companions and advisors, are positioned on the other side of the table in various stages of wakefulness. Sera all but lays across the Ferelden portion of the map, her face buried in Lake Calenhad. Bull leans against the wall with his head tucked into his chin, but when he sees her, his gaze is alert and scanning for clues.

"I'll have you know I am impossible to deal with if I don't get my needed sleep," Dorian grumbles even though he and Vivienne appear perfectly poised and groomed like it is midday.

Varric pulls on Sera's leg and the elf shoots up. "Who-da-what?"

"What is this about, Inquisit-ahh," Josephine covers up her mouth and blushing cheeks as a yawn breaks through her words. "Oh, please do forgive me." Keela can still see the ghost of the other woman's tears. She should say something to assuage Josephine's guilt over her people, but she isn't sure she has the energy now. She walks to the edge of the map and steeples her fingers against it.

"If this is about your clan-"

"No," Keela interrupts Leliana. She feels the loss all over again, but pushes it down. "Not entirely."

"Boss, what happened-"

"_Will_ be dealt with," she says, words edged with venom. "But there is more. I went…I saw…"

She lets out a frustrated sigh and pushes back from the table. Keela pulls the eluvian piece from her pocket and gazes into its shimmering surface. There is no one awaiting her this time, just a mist filled world doused in colors of grey and green that seems somewhat familiar.

"I met with Solas," she announces and their sudden silence pushes against her with force. She catches the way Cullen's grip on his sword pommel tightens, but dares not look him in the eye. No one seems sure what to say against this announcement. Even Sera thinks better than to speak.

It is Cullen that breaks the quiet and she wishes it was anyone else. "What happened?"

"It was in the Fade, but when I woke this was in my hand." She holds up the glass. "It's part of an eluvian. Either he was there with me and left before I woke or somehow was able to pass this along through our dream."

"That is not possible," Vivienne remarks.

"When has the impossible ever stopped her?" Varric replies.

Keela shakes her head. "As interesting as it is, it's not important. Solas told me about a reckoning coming, something to do with the Elvhen gods. By the way he made it sound, it is an upheaval that will effect more than my people alone. Considering we know at least one god exists, he might be trying to find more of them, but that is only a guess. And he wants me to find him."

"Do you think that's wise?" Josephine speaks what must be on everyone's minds.

Keela spins the glass in her fingers. "No."

Varric gives a quick laugh that shakes his shoulders. "But you're going to do it anyways."

She palms the piece, squeezing it tight but careful this time. "Yes. I cannot claim this to be official Inquisition business. I think we all know it is…of a more personal nature, so I won't-"

"Where are we going and when do we leave?" Bull asks as he pushes off the wall. Keela watches as they straighten and look at her with supportive gazes, ready and willing.

Tears prickle at the backs of her eyes and she can only offer them a thankful smile. "Back to the Temple of Mythal. It is where we met in the Fade and may hold some answers. Go and get as much rest as you can. Meet me at the stables at noon and I will decide who rides with me. Advisors, please stay."

Keela waits until the large group filters down to three. "Leliana, do you still have any eyes on Abelas, the lead sentinel from the temple?"

"Not recent, but the last report was he and a few others remained somewhere within the Arbor Wilds."

"Please send as many scouts as you can spare to find him. I would like him to join me at the temple. I'm sure he'll decline, but I could use his knowledge if he is willing."

"I will see what I can do."

"What do you require from me?" Josephine asks.

"The next Arthlavhen draws near. I need the Keepers to see the Temple of Mythal and to hear whatever I discover of this mission. There was so much history there and I barely scratched the surface. Write to each of the clans and ask for them to move the gathering there."

"Do you think they'll actually listen?" Leliana questions.

"I am a Dalish elf made leader of men, savior of the world, marked by the Fade and unmarked of my vallaslin, and the last of my clan. I think they might be eager to answer my summons, if from nothing else but curiosity."

"I am sure it will be good to use as many elven envoys as possible, among supplying them with a few goods to ease any tension." Josephine clears her throat, fingers tightening on the board she holds. "And I will make sure everything goes smoothly, I swear it."

"I know. Commander." She glances up at him finally and he looks every bit the noble leader as he always does on the field. Keela is grateful for his professionalism, although it pulls at some twisted string of her heart. "Wycome…I, my clan-"

She takes a breath and watches his eyes soften. "What those monsters did cannot go unchallenged. They were under Inquisition protection and I…did anyone bury them? Are they all truly gone, are the artifacts stolen or destroyed, and-"

"Inquisitor," his voice is gentle and she does not hate the name when he says it like that.

"The clans will most likely disown me further for it as I use a shemlen force to tackle this, but they would stand by and do nothing. I cannot. I need them avenged!"

The word echoes harsh against the stone walls and Cullen waits until quiet settles back over them to speak. "I will send a few squadrons to Wycome to investigate this matter. If we do nothing, it will send the wrong message that we do not support nor care for our allies. Perhaps The Iron Bull and Charges could be sent as well? His training would be useful during interrogations."

Keela lets out a breath full of relief and gratitude. She knows he will see it done to whatever end.

"Is there anything else?" Leliana asks.

"Is that not enough? Don't you have a chantry to run too?"

The spymaster gives a short laugh. "You are right. We will tend to these matters straight away."

"Thank you." Keela wants to turn and go, catch a few hours of rest herself even though it seems more likely Corypheus will return than her eyes will ever shut for more than a few minutes. But there is something else that needs to be done.

"Commander, a moment?" she hears herself say. Leliana and Josephine breeze by and she notes how they keep their eyes bowed. The soon to be Divine gives her a small encouragement before closing the doors and the room seems to shrink tight around Keela.

She takes a moment to compose herself before facing him fully. She does not shy from his gaze now, for she owes him at least this. Cullen moves from around the table and stands at its corner only a few long steps away. The promise of something more flits in the air between them and has for some time. She can see it, imagines all of Skyhold can see it as well, and to deny it anymore is absurd.

Keela is always careful to guard herself around Cullen. She will not do to another person what Solas did to her. She will not give and take in equal measures and leave someone torn in the wake of her own indecision. It is a crueler fate than never reaching for them at all. She will give her next lover all of her heart or nothing at all, but since Solas smashed it into fragments months ago, she still hasn't found all the pieces to do so.

Cullen has been a faithful friend, but she would be blind indeed to not notice how he smiles more at the sight of her, or how his eyes linger upon her skin when he thinks she can't see. And she would be a fool to not notice how she has started to return his smiles when he walks into a room or how her heart warms if he accidentally brushes against her.

She knows he will never do anything to ruin their companionship despite what feelings he may hold for her. He will let her be the one to leap when and if she is ever ready and his unlimited patience and kind spirit sing to her battered soul. Cullen is a gentle wind while Solas was the storm. Keela could be happy in his sweet embrace. And yet…and yet…

"What are you thinking?" she asks with no idea why. She just needs to say something to break the silence.

"I am wondering if this is what you truly want."

Is it? Keela runs her fingers over the fading map, retracing steps in her mind. "He said _no matter what happens _before he left, which always made me believe this day would eventually come. Before the last battle, he promised to tell me the truth and I have been bound by his words, even more so by the ones he never said. Time will eventually set me free, I know, but now…I think I need to see this through."

"I think you need to see it through as well." Cullen pauses to clear his throat. "You should get some rest as well. I'm sure you have no intention of wasting time on the roads and will need the strength. I will see to making preparations for Wycome at once."

"Cullen." Keela catches his arm as he walks passed her. "Thank you for…for..."

He reaches up to give her hand a squeeze. "Always."


	3. Chapter 3

They set out a few minutes passed noon. Keela is an arrow aimed at their target's heart as she takes them straight through the harsh mountains. They travel the many hours in mostly silence, taking few breaks, and it's not until they can see the Dales far below do they begin to slow. She tugs her hood close to her face as wind sweeps cold and bitter through the passes, but she will weather whatever she must to see this through. Cassandra still sits high within the saddle, but Dorian slumps with a grimace behind his mustache.

"Dorian, it's not too late to return-"

"No, no, just reminiscing about how you take me to the most marvelous of places. I forgot how wonderful it is to trudge through the bitter mountains atop a great, drooling beast." His mount flicks his mane back and forth in protest.

"Are you all right, Cole?"

The spirit stares at the head of his Ferelden steed. "She wants to run free through the mountains. It smells like home. But there might be treats where they're going. She likes the oats seeped with something sweet."

Keela lets out a little laugh, rubbing a hand down the neck of her hart. "Let's get a little further down and out of the wind before we make camp for the night. Then she can have all the treats she wants."

They travel until the sun dips behind the horizon and make camp tucked within the mountain. The plains are just within reach, perhaps a half a day's ride until flowing grass replaces dirt and stone. Keela takes her time combing the stains of travel from her mount's fur before grabbing a bowl of Cassandra's soup. It settles warm within and mixes with the exhaustion already clinging. Sleep did not come easily, as she guessed. Expelling so much of her power the day before did little to help as well.

Keela all but crawls into the tent as soon as Cassandra manages to pound the last stake into the ground. The Seeker does not mention her little effort to assist, merely slides her bedroll inside and begins unclasping the multitude of pieces to her armor. Keela only bothers removing her outer robe before plummeting into her favorite blanket.

"Inquisitor?" Cassandra says just as sleep is about to take her away.

Keela moans into her pillow. "Yes?"

"I am...not very skilled at these sorts of things. But if you should wish to discuss anything, please know I will do my best to listen. I feel responsible for what has happened. I was the one to vouch for the apostate. If I had known-"

"That is enough," Keela growls. "There is only one person to blame for any of this. But, I suppose, if he could fool you with his sincerity, then it makes me feel a little better about myself."

"Yes, how reassuring," Cassandra says with a small amount of grumbling.

Keela closes her eyes and listens to the fire dying outside. Wind sweeps by in short bursts to rustle against the side of the tent and she feels the same inside, rippling and shaking with what is to come. Her last time sharing a tent with Cassandra dances across her closed lids. The cooling sand of the Oasis is a sweet balm against the still burning wound in her ribs. A Venatori sword cut through her, almost severing her from the world until Solas pulls her from the edge. If she listens closely, she can hear his broken scream, her name a desperate prayer on his lips. _I feared you were lost_, he whispers, breath warm on her skin.

But she is lost and not sure how to find her way back to home again. Keela shifts her face against the pillow and looks towards her sleep mate. "Is this like any of the stories you've read?"

Cassandra takes her time before replying. "I may have read a tale or two of lovers torn by secrets. The truth comes out regardless, one way or another. In every book, there is always something to keep them apart, that eventually is responsible for bringing them together. Most stories end with understanding and forgiveness if love is true."

"And if it's not?"

Cassandra shifts away, sniffing. "I do not read those types of tales."

Keela laughs and settles back to sleep. If only it were that easy.

On their fourth day of travel, their quiet companionship is broken by a piercing scream. Keela doesn't hesitate to turn the hart towards the sound with the others trailing behind. The plains have slowly melted away to be replaced by green growing up the tall limbs of trees and rolling across the land in waves. When Keela can see a group of people ahead she jumps from her steed and jogs the rest of the way to find cover.

Men in armor surround a stopped cart with living cargo while a line of shackled figures trails behind. Keela can see what caused the commotion. One of the chained members has fallen, most likely exhausted. Soldiers push and pull at the defenseless elf, while the girl next to him is held back by uncaring hands.

"Leave him be!" she screams. The lines of Andruil curl about her face and make her fury all the more potent.

"No good knife ears," a slaver spits as he yanks the fallen to his feet. "Get moving! There's no breaks 'til sundown."

"Slavers," Cassandra murmurs next to Keela. "With all the rifts open in this area, they were not as present as before. Now they are a much larger problem again."

"I thought Celene promised to hunt them down?"

"I thought so as well."

Anger boils within Keela. So many of them are of her blood. There could be a whole clan trapped within that cage, parceled and packaged to sell to Tevinter with a bow. She sees every Lavellan kin lost in their faces, pieces on a board sacrificed with no thought and little gain. How many more will suffer for the sake of another? She will allow this no longer.

"They are mine," she snarls and leaps down towards the group. Cassandra whispers fiercely at her back, but Keela throws her hand back to demand they remain.

Two slavers see her approach and unsheathe their weapons. "Stop right there!"

Keela obeys, spreading her fingers at her sides to show she holds no weapon. Her staff remains at her back, forgotten. Every eyes swings to watch her movements, some alert and curious, others amused.

"Well they're making it easy for us now. Maybe we should just set up shop and let the mongrels come to us."

A man on horseback trots from the front of the line and faces Keela. In his eyes she can see cunning calculation and watches as he sweeps from her to the trees beyond. By the way the others look to him, he must be their leader. She will save him for last then. "State your business."

"The law is quite clear what is to be done with slavers in these lands. Release these people now and I will consider granting you a merciful death."

For a moment there is stillness until laughter sings between the trees and blades of grass. Yet the leader remains still, his eyes analyzing hers. "Who are you?" he asks when his men have quieted.

"My name is Keela Lavellan, but I'm sure you may know me better as the Inquisitor."

Their laughter and jeers quit and they turn eyes toward their leader. Keela watches his gaze cycle through many thoughts – _Is she truly alone? Could the rumors be true? There are twelve of us, surely she cannot best that many. She would make a prize worth more than a hundred slaves._Keela can't help the smile that tugs at the corner of her mouth as she watches greed win above all other concerns.

"Take her, alive if you can!"

Keela opens her palm and feels the mark burst to life within her grasp. Its power soaks into her skin, tingles through her nerves. She throws her hand out to the two approaching men and the smell of ozone burns her nose. A rift opens beneath their feet and for one second they hover there, eyes going wide, before they fall into nothingness. Keela closes the rift and sentences them to whatever fate awaits in the Fade. The remaining soldiers pause, alarmed, but she does not wait for them.

Demons hover against the Veil. They have called to her all her life, but the power that surges through her will not submit. She calls to _them_ now. Two rifts open around one man and a Pride demon's arms latch on to rip him apart with chuckling glee. Another rift opens above a group of soldiers and a Terror demon drops among them, claws painting the grass red. She flings a few more holes into the Beyond and watches as demons strike against her enemy with precision, never straying close to the captives even once.

When there are only a few remaining, a flick of the wrist sends the demons slipping back into the rifts before they close. Keela lifts her hand high into the air and baths the world in light as the power of the anchor collects above their heads. Whatever soldiers remain are caught within its gras[ and are slowly drawn into the swirling mass above. Their anguished faces burn into her memory, but she only feels a calm purpose and doesn't stop until only the prisoners and the captain remain.

Keela drops her hand and the power snaps out with a loud crack. She is a wolf licking her lips at fallen prey as she approaches. His horse long since fled, abandoning him on the ground to watch his men disappear. Blood not his own covers half his arm and Keela doesn't care to guess what mess of a man lays nearby. She keeps her eyes on his and stops when he is close enough to kiss her boots.

"You should have taken my offer," she says.

"What…what are you?"

Keela lifts her eyes to the captives. Elvhen eyes gaze at her, most too shocked to do anything but stare while some wear looks of horror. Mingled among them, however, is a fire quickly catching and it burns in her veins.

"Revolution."

She opens a rift within him. She does not look away as he collapses in upon himself, skin ripping and blood pouring. She does not drown out his scream of agony or shy away as he reaches for her. He cannot touch her. When it is over, she closes the rift and then sends ice along the heavy chain connecting the prisoners. With a snap of her fingers it shatters into thousands of pieces.

Keela glances down at her hands. The mark glows quietly in her palm and spots of blood decorate her like bleeding freckles. She touches them, smearing red across her skin as she does.

"Inquisitor…"

Keela is not surprised by Cassandra's wary look. Dorian lags even farther behind, brows knitting together and hand wrapped around his staff tight enough to turn his knuckles white. Cole materializes at her side and she catches his eyes. For a moment she fears to see something harsh in them, but they are calm, understanding. Like she didn't just open up the Fade and summon demons to do her biding.

"They are scared of you, but there is hope too. They need something soft to make it stick."

"Are you really the Inquisitor?"

Keela turns to face the crowd. It is the girl with Andruil's vallaslin that speaks, feet cautious but eyes curious. Keela takes Cole's advice and makes herself small, bending down to crouch in the grass with the pretense of wiping her hands. She gives them a warm smile, pulling back the storm clouds in her eyes to something she hopes will soothe.

"Yes."

"They said you were powerful, but I've never seen such magic before. You're…" The girl shakes her head and Keela cannot blame her. She is not sure herself if there are words to describe what she has done. "I thought you were Dalish?"

"I am."

"So the rumors are true that you removed it," says another. It belongs to the older elf once under the slaver's heel. His gray eyes trace over her bare face. "Mythal'enaste, I did not believe it could be done."

The elves step closer to her while the few humans collect together by the cart. Keela watches as Cassandra and Dorian shift closer to them and offer aid.

"What should we do now?" a voice asks in the crowd.

"Go back to your clans, your cities. Or there are Inquisition strongholds all around Thedas where you would be welcome."

"They talk about you in Halamshiral. How you're the reason Briala can whisper in the Empress' ear. It's been different since then," an unmarked elf her age says, eyes suspicious. "Why would a Dalish care for anyone but their own?"

Keela stands before addressing them again. "Did it make much of a difference where you came from, huddled within that cage? I do not care if you walk the lonely path or not, it does not make you any less my kin. Our separation has brought us nothing but their chains. Come, let us help you prepare."

It takes a good hour to help the victims be on their way. Some remain behind to rest while most filter through the trees back towards their homes, some towards the nearest Inquisition keep.

"What should we say happened here?" they ask before parting ways.

Keela glances at their faces and sees the burning Exalted Plains, remembers when Solas took her dream walking among the graceful palaces of Halamshiral before they were replaced by others with no soul. She can feel the tears she cried when first stepping into the Emerald Graves, so alive and so broken at the same time. Her path has lacked purpose as of late, but in their eyes she finds it renewed. "The truth. Tell them the truth. And tell them….tell them Ar ena'tu Elvhen."

"Inquisitor, we must talk," Cassandra says when they've put a few miles of distance between the caravan and their party. "How…what you did back there, how did you know it could be done?"

"I didn't."

"Your power has been growing stronger since we closed the last rift. I can practically hear it buzzing around you like a swarm of bees," Dorian says. "You're not even a little bit drained, are you?"

"No." If anything she feels stronger. "I'm fine. I feel…fine."

"Fine she says. Nothing about this is fine! You called demons out of the Fade like they were obedient hounds."

"And you wake the dead to do your biding," Keela replies.

"I…how are you not bothered by this?"

She shrugs a shoulder. The idea of it hovers just beyond the edge of her thoughts and if she concentrates on it too much she fears the insanity that will emerge. "I am, but there are only a few rift mages in Thedas. My trainer is…special, and Solas certainly had a habit of befriending beings from the Beyond. Perhaps this is merely a part of it no one has yet experienced? Was there a moment you felt I was out of control?"

"No, but this is hardly normal. By all accounts it should be impossible."

"What was it that Varric said? She is known for the impossible," Cassandra says and lets out a sigh. "I must admit I am somewhat concerned about this development, but I trust you, Inquisitor. I also trust that you will let us know the moment it becomes an issue. We _will_ have another discussion about this."

"Yes, of course."

They ride on, but now their silence is burdened with what has transpired. Cole's horse presses close enough to feel the heat off her brown coat.

"Go ahead, but be quiet about it."

"Chains, gripping tight to past and future, crippling, choking. A map, tokens of war and peace spread before you. You hold one tight, powerful and powerless to stop their blood from spreading. It must end. _Ar ena'tu Elvhen_. I will make the people rise. You worry what you will become to make it true."

Keela thinks about the slavers within her grip, their leader pulling apart at her command. The mark hums quietly within her palm, no longer just a companion but a piece of her like all the others. There is no discernable difference between its magic and her own now.

Demons follow her, sliding against the Veil as they move through the growing forest. She can sense them easily now and they do not call out to her in malice, no longer taunt with promises. She feels instead curiosity, an eagerness that they do not understand themselves. She should feel disgusted by the carnage she committed, afraid of this growing power surging within and what she is becoming. But she doesn't and that worries her more than anything.

Cole leans closer, voice barely above a whisper. "You're not a monster. Not yet."

_Rift Mage Spell: Master of the Void - Summon a level 17 demon for 15s. Activation 50 mana, Cooldown 42s. ;)_


	4. Chapter 4

The Temple of Mythal is smaller than she remembers, or perhaps it is Keela that has changed. Inquisition scouts and soldiers make camp just outside the main doors having heard from Leliana's ravens of their approach. Keela collapses into a thankful heap before the blossoming fire and eagerly partakes in the fresh fruit and meat offered. One thing she doesn't miss about travel is the bland and hard tack.

"I suppose it would be too much to hope there is a bottle of Agregio floating about?" Dorian asks as he falls next to her.

"Uh, well I-"

"Do not answer that," Cassandra interrupts the concerned soldier and snatches the plate of food in his hand.

"Has there been any word about Abelas and the other sentinels?" Keela asks.

"No, Your Worship. I will inform you at once if there's any news. We haven't found anyone inside either, but the doors across the bridge are sealed and we can't seem to open them. Perhaps we could make a battering ram-"

"I will handle that. No need to destroy the temple more than it already is."

"Do you think he'll come?" Cassandra asks as the man moves on and Keela shakes her head. It was a foolish idea, for Abelas doesn't seem the type to help a cause he has no part of, but it is worth the effort.

"Very doom and gloom, that one," Dorian comments.

"Why do you wish for his company?"

Keela looks off towards the temple trying to gather her thoughts. It is Cole that picks them up for her. "He is hers too, servant, sacrifice, stuck in a time they don't belong in anymore. He looks ancient and she feels it. He might be a comfort, even if it's just another stitch in a wound that won't close."

"Yes," she whispers and stands, turning away from them. Hunger has become the last thing on her mind. "We will wait for him a few days, if we can. Finish your meal and meet me at the entrance. I know we're tired, but I would see this done."

The temple is silent as they continue their journey and Keela wonders what it was like in the days of glory. Hundreds of followers must have flocked to this sacred place, filling the air with prayers and song. Now only a few bright birds call out and soar through the empty arches. The Inquisition soldiers cleared much of the clutter away, but nothing can rid the ground of the black scorches where Corypheus brought ruin. The two statues before the bridge are but rubble and dark blood still sticks to stone. Such a beautiful place does not deserve such blasphemy.

They cross the bridge without incident this time and stand before the golden doors. Their magic is great and thrums through the air. Not even Corypheus and his pet could leave a scratch upon them.

"Should we knock?" Dorian asks.

Keela lifts her unmarked hand. White lines appear beneath her fingers and beat in time with her heart. They start to spread through the grooves of the artwork and as they reach the edges the doors flash once, bright and blinding. A great groaning fills the air as they swing wide in invitation.

The Inquisitor gives her friends a quick quirk of her lips. "I suppose being Mythal's creature has some positive uses."

They walk into the airy atrium to find Abelas waiting at its center. He wears the same armor of shifting bronze and emerald, but his hood is thrown back to reveal more of his features – head bare and ears long and graceful. Even with the lines etched upon his brow, Keela still sees a resemblance to Solas in the way he carries himself. Both elves stand strong and elegant like subjects of a noble painting.

"Andaran atish'an, Abelas," greets Keela.

"Whatever peace existed here is long gone, She Who Has Tasted Sorrow," Abelas says. His eyes narrow as his attention washes across her barren face. "So you have learned the truth."

"I have."

"I admit, I am surprised you have been able to withstand the Vir'abelasan's power."

"I am not weak."

He crosses his arms and looks at her, through her, and Keela swears she can feel him brushing against the edges of her spirit. Something intangible ties them together and she reaches out, pulling on the thread. The feeling recedes and Abelas doesn't exactly smile, but it is close. "Perhaps. What reason do you have for returning to this place?"

"Our scouts did not tell you?" Cassandra asks.

"You summoned me, Vassal. It appears I am still bound to the well even though my purpose is no more."

"Mythal lives, Abelas. I have talked with her." Keela tells the story of meeting Flemeth beyond the eluvian and the god laced within her veins. His eyes widen a fraction, fingers gripping tight in a fist beneath his chin. When she is finished, he gives a small shake of his head.

"If you have come to return the power, it cannot be done. You are bound to her forever, unless she sees fit to release you."

"That is not why I am here. Have you been to the well since?" When he answers with another shake, Keela starts towards the path they took months ago. "Come then. I have something to show you."

As they crest the final summit of Mythal's sanctum, she cannot help remembering their initial journey to this place. Everything is fractured, quick against the dwindling sands of time pressing their heels harder into the stone. Solas glares at her, lips moving against her decision, but eyes divided in intent. In that moment he seemed thirsty for its power as she poured sorrow down her throat.

The well remains empty, its power locked away within her, and the once shattered eluvian shines whole and welcoming atop the altar of Mythal. Some small part of her wanted the dream to be proven wrong, but it cannot be denied now. Solas was here.

"It was broken beyond measure," Abelas says beside her. "The power to mend it would be great indeed."

Keela holds the eluvian piece between her fingers. The one before them ripples, singing to her magic with promises and answers just beyond. Somewhere passed its surface, she knows he awaits. Her fingers shake at the thought.

"It must be for another mirror," Dorian says as he watches her. "I have a feeling you're going to make me regret not leaving for Tevinter sooner."

"I am going through. You are welcome to stay here-"

Cassandra makes a noise and steps closer.

"What is another jump through time and space between friends?" Dorian grabs his staff and twirls it with a flourish before stomping it upon the ground.

"He made _me _forget," Cole says and there is an anger to his voice Keela has never heard before, but understands deep within her heart. She turns to Abelas and the primal mage takes a few moments before answering.

"I will accompany you," he says at last.

Keela steps close to the eluvian until her feet almost touch the rippling glass. She has spent many nights dreaming of meeting him again and now that it is here, she feels so unprepared. Does she truly wish to know the truth behind the frame? There is more than a mere reunion to be found beyond. She feels it deep within her bones, her soul. Whatever lays in wait will change everything.

She takes a deep breath and steps through. Her last trip using this portal spit her out on the carpets of Skyhold, but now it deposits her somewhere fantastical, but familiar. Strange and twisting trees grow between hundreds of eluvians as a mist blankets the world beyond. She feels different, stronger. The Vir'abelasan is a jubilant chorus inside her head while the mark vibrates so hard she has to concentrate on keeping its power in check.

Keela turns to look at the doorway. It is large and guarded on the sides by two dragons roaring into the sky with wings spread wide. The frame sparkles with gold and rubies, untarnished by the passage of time. It is a thing fit for a goddess. The surface shimmers like a stone thrown into a pond and Cassandra and Dorian appear side by side. Discomfort quickly coats their features and the mage bends over, gripping his staff tightly.

"What's wrong?" Keela asks as she comes to support him.

"It feels like I have the makings of a dreadful hangover," Dorian says.

"I may be sick," Cassandra groans.

Abelas walks through next, standing tall and unaffected and appraises the scene with little surprise. When Cole steps through, Keela has to squint against the sudden brightness. He is surrounded in an aura of white and glances down at his hands, his mouth opened in a small circle.

"I feel…_strong_," he says, amazed. "Stronger than before I became me."

"What is this? Where are we?"

"Morrigan called it the Crossroads, a place where all the eluvians meet."

"It is more than that," Abelas says. "In our time there was no separation between the spirit world and ours. Now this is the only place where the two planes intersect."

"That can't be right. We wouldn't be able to live in this," Dorian says.

"You did not. The creation of the Veil allowed your kind to enter our lands in force."

"It made them stronger and us weaker," Keela adds. "And mortal?"

"Yes, although we were defeated long before their armies reached our shores."

"Will it kill them?"

"No. It makes the shemlen sick, but nothing more." Keela thinks about how Morrigan walked through this place with easy steps. Perhaps the witch is even more than she appears.

"Let's hurry then, unless you want to go back?" The two humans give her pained looks that have nothing to do with their sudden ailment. "All right, all right. Abelas, will you help Dorian?"

The sentinel sends her a hard stare of his own, but she suffers through it until he reluctantly agrees. Cole and Keela flank Cassandra as they walk through the cold and broken forest of glass.

"What is it exactly we are looking for?" Cassandra asks.

"An eluvian with a missing piece."

Dorian gives a bark of laughter despite his fatigue. "This is a dream, it has to be. No, there would be a hot soaking tub and oils if it were. This is a nightmare."

How can Keela explain what pulls at her feet? She feels like she knows every stone, every gilded frame and stoic tree. The voices of the well are so loud it is hard to hear anything else. They speak one over the other, making it impossible to discern their meaning, but Keela can understand their hunger clear enough.

She takes them around a corner and finds a large eluvian set apart from the others. A pair of howling wolves with emerald eyes sing to the sky and twisting vines and smooth stones create the frame. It is wild and wonderful and Keela feels drawn to it as if it is the sun after long days stuck in darkness.

"There." Cole points to a vacant spot on the glass. Thin cracks surround the hole, but otherwise the mirror appears to be solid. She unveils the piece from her pocket and holds out her hand to superimpose it upon the missing section. A perfect fit.

"Be ready," she says as she reaches forward and snaps it into place. The mirror hums to life as the returned part glows. A shockwave bursts from it, sending light and heat across the whole eluvian until it is as alive as the one they came from. She watches it for a moment, waiting, but nothing comes through. "Come on."

"Are you sure about this?" Cassandra asks.

"No," Keela says and disappears into the glass.

Cassandra and Dorian let out relieved sighs as they tumble in after her, color returning to their cheeks and eyes. They appear in a wide room smelling of history and Keela no longer feels magic tickling against her skin like before. As Cole steps through, he is his normal self once more and lets out a disappointed sigh that makes her smile. Wherever they are, they have left the Crossroads behind for now.

Sunlight filters through a hole in the stone ceiling and creeps through shattered windows at their sides. Keela steps with Dorian towards one of the openings. They appear to be nestled deep within a hill and she can see a dusty swath of land beyond. "Is that..? I think those are the Silent Plains. Look, you can see the Imperial Highway," Dorian says.

The Seeker looks at him with a frown. "We're in Tevinter?"

"Not exactly the homecoming I pictured. That I know if, we destroyed or repurposed every temple to the Elven gods we found. There's a lucrative bathhouse in Mithranous that used to be a temple to June. Absolutely lavish, even for my tastes. To survive untouched we must be in one that is quite well hidden."

"It is a temple of the Dread Wolf. He made them difficult to find," Abelas reveals with the air of a detached guide.

As Keela takes a closer look, it appears the temple has encountered destruction, however. Every work of furniture is broken, stones covered in ash from fires long since burned out. There is writing on the walls and floors made in angry slashes of red paint full of Elvhen curses, things of betrayal and threats against the god of treason. The statue between two sets of stairs above them is defaced with the worst of words, the once proud snout and ears of Fen'Harel sawed off with malice. An untouched golden door gleams above, smaller but so much like the one guarding Mythal's inner refuge.

Quick jumps up the steps bring her to the landing and she gazes at what lays before the doors. Ragged clumps of clothes, trinkets and bone meal pile against their surface. A large book rests towards the edges, the pages torn to dust and the leather barely held together.

Abelas kicks at a piece of cloth, turning it over to reveal a faded green seal. "I do believe these were priests of Fen'Harel."

"Were they trying to escape something?"

"Or someone," Keela answers Cassandra. "Most likely whoever ransacked the temple."

Cole's voice floats to them. "They came with fire and eyes burning. Prayers become screams, fear fragrant as incense. _Save us_. But he didn't."

"There is a most impressive spell on these," Dorian remarks as he runs his hand against the gilded designs. Together, Dorian, Keela and even Abelas try to work around the magic with their own, but no matter how hard they push the way forward remains sealed. Keela can turn more than a dozen slavers to nothing, but this seems beyond her grasp. She bangs her fist against the surface, growling when it doesn't even shutter.

She closes her eyes and calls to the Vir'abelasan. The voices have quieted since they entered the temple and remain so now. They whisper in the corner of her mind, huddled away with words cowed in reverence. She doesn't understand until she hears Solas calling out through her mind. For a moment his force is greater than all the ancients combined. A flutter of fear floats through her stomach to have him so present within her thoughts for it is an intimate magic. He speaks the answer she searches for and she swears she can feel his lips against the skin of her ear.

Keela holds out her marked hand and lets the anchor's power flare to life. It curls about and brushes against the grain like caressing a cherished lover. Whispered sighs fill the air, too quiet for her to make out their words, but they tickle against her ears and skin. "Fen'Harel enansal," she says and with an echoing click the doors swing open without even a groan.

"How did you…"

But she ignores her companions and crosses the threshold, eyes already captivated with the first glimpses of brilliant color beyond. The room is a cylinder with a raised dais at its center. As she nears it she can see a staff with a glistening emerald sphere crowning the long twisting shaft, but it's the far wall that demands her attention.

The fresco appears as new as the day it was painted and the design so familiar Keela is thrown back into Skyhold's rotunda. She remembers the way Solas would mix colors together to get that perfect blue, the same swirling around in front of her now, and the way his lines and curves demanded reverence and awe just as the depiction of a gold and glorious temple dominating the space now does.

Something strikes like lightning inside her, thunder rumbling through veins and bursting against her skull. Something that threatens to topple her with its discovery. The truth, his truth, sits waiting for her, but Keela cannot find the courage to chase it in the sight of this familiarity in a place so foreign.

Feet turn beneath her ready to run from the room as her heart races between bones until the impossible happens.

The painting begins to move.


End file.
